


cut through all the noise

by crimsonxflowers



Series: there's a hole in my soul (can you fill it?) [5]
Category: Boardwalk Empire
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, First Kiss, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 17:24:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11295270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonxflowers/pseuds/crimsonxflowers
Summary: Atarah flinches in Meyer’s arms, and that makes everything so much worse, but he squares his shoulders and tries to meet Charlie’s eyes. “I'm aware that Atarah and I have crossed a line, and we've endeavored to keep that as separate from our business interactions as possible. Obviously we haven't managed it.” He takes a shaky breath, but before he can keep going, Charlie interjects.“Wait, you—” Charlie’s brows furrow, and he shakes his head. “What d’you mean,youcrossed a line? Orh’s the one all over Atarah. What are you talkin’ about?”Meyer presses his lips together, and chooses his next words as carefully as he can. “I think it's clear at this point that I've let certain unprofessional emotions get the better of me recently, but if nothing else I’d like to maintain our mutually beneficial business relationship for as long as—what are you doing?”





	cut through all the noise

**Author's Note:**

> F I N A L L Y.
> 
> list of daemons (names and species) are down in the endnotes, if you want the mental image before you read! i have [a whole tag for this au](http://meyerlansky.tumblr.com/tagged/daemon+au) over on my tumblr, as well as a writeup explaining the basics of how daemons work [here](http://meyerlansky.tumblr.com/post/127967825056/what-are-uhmdaemons-i-discovered-the-daemon), though fair warning that the overall tag contains daemon spoilers for characters who haven't been introduced/aren't settled at the point that this fic takes place, so caveat lector etc

If there’s one thing Meyer can’t stand it’s feeling like something is out of his control. And this thing with Charlie is quickly getting to that point.

 Charlie’s always been an insistent physical presence, and it feels like it’s only gotten worse. Or maybe Meyer is just more aware of it now—and he’s _definitely_ aware of it, every time Charlie slings an arm around his shoulder, every time he sits a bit closer than Meyer’s expecting him to, every time their hands brush passing each other a lighter, every time he leans in real close to read something over Meyer’s shoulder. Meyer’s _aware_. It’s horrible, it completely shatters his focus every time it happens, and the only consolation is Charlie hasn’t been acting any differently, so at least he probably hasn’t noticed.

 Atarah’s not making it any easier, either. For a daemon she’s better than most when she has to lie, but she can only keep it up for so long. Especially when Oriana’s every bit as physically affectionate as Charlie. They’re friends, and have been for a long time, so a certain degree of their daemons touching isn’t out of the ordinary, so between that and Oriana sharing Charlie’s physicality they’ve gotten away with it so far. But where Meyer has a reasonable amount of guilt about enjoying the contact, he can feel the way Atarah radiates satisfaction every time Oriana’s that little bit more affectionate than they’re expecting.

 “You have to stop,” he tells her one night as they're heading home after another long night at their makeshift office. It's not anything more than a table set up in the corner of Charlie’s flat, but it's more private than anywhere else would be, for now.

 Atarah shifts on his shoulder, claws digging into his skin a bit deeper than what's necessary to keep her balance. “She starts it,” she grumbles, guilt shot through her surly tone.

 “That's not an excuse, Atarah, you encourage it,” he chides, tone softening just a little bit, because… she's not wrong. Oriana _does_ start it more often than not, “it” being the way the two of them curl up together when they're both bored of watching Charlie and Meyer work. The problem is it's happening more and more lately, and—“what happened to ‘they can't find out’?”

 Atarah makes a displeased noise in her chest, and butts her head against Meyer’s jaw, not at all gently. She’s not quite annoyed enough with him to bite, but it’s obvious she’s distinctly unhappy with the whole conversation. “They won't. It's not like they're not used to being all over other people all the time anyway,” she says, a little bitterly. Meyer presses his lips together and tries not to think about how often Charlie saunters into the room with a smug grin and smelling like cheap perfume.

 And she must feel guilty about that, if the way she flattens out across his shoulders is any indication. They're silent for a few minutes, and then she says, very quietly, “I won't let her anymore. I’ll—it's better. If I don't.”

 She sounds as dismayed as Meyer feels, and all he can do is reach up to stroke her fur. It doesn't feel like enough, but she leans into the touch anyway.

 They're both quiet the rest of the way home.

* * *

 

“I think a few more months of these kinds of profits and we’ll be able to rent out a place to host the games off the street,” Meyer says, squinting down at their figures for the week, ledgers spread out on the table in front of him. Charlie looks up from a few feet away, where he’s splitting the take up into five piles—four for the two of them, Benny, and Frank, each of their stacks about half the size of the buy-off fund—and raises his eyebrows, an even mix of impressed and questioning.

 “Yeah? Y’think we need that?” he asks, skeptical about any new expenses, and Meyer shrugs, reaching forward to smooth his palm along Atarah’s side where she’s sprawled out at the edge of the card table.

 “It’d be an investment, definitely, but it’s not a bad idea. No cops to deal with if we have our own place, no competition from the game down the block.” Atarah rolls over onto her feet as he speaks, arching into the touch before she jumps down from the table, ambling over to where Oriana’s curled up on the floor between Charlie and Meyer. Meyer watches her out of the corner of his eye as she flops down next to Oriana. “We’d probably pull in a different clientele, but people interested in that kind of game tend to be higher rollers, so…” he trails off, because Oriana’s shifted now too, curled up around Atarah’s smaller form and nudging her head against Atarah’s. _So much for not letting her get close anymore_ , he thinks, but Atarah just returns the contact, apparently unconcerned about anything else. He clears his throat, tries to keep his voice steady as he continues. “There wouldn’t be anything keeping us from running street games too. The more revenue streams we have, the better.”

 Charlie’s not looking up anymore. He’s back to staring down at the cash piles, shuffling one of the smaller piles in his hands, shoulders pulled almost up to his ears. “Right,” he mumbles, more to the table than to Meyer, and the sinking feeling in Meyer’s gut solidifies into a cold pit. “You, uh, you bring this up with AR at all?”

 He knows he’s staring at Charlie, but it’s better than looking at Atarah and Oriana, who apparently don’t notice or care about what’s going on in the rest of the room. He shakes his head faintly—not that Charlie sees it. “Not—not yet. But I think he’ll be on board,” he says quietly, and pushes back from the table. “I can check with him tomorrow, if he’s around. It’s getting late anyway, so we’ll head home and take care of that tomorrow?” And _that_ finally gets Atarah’s attention; she stops… whatever she’s doing, and looks up at Meyer, before picking herself up as slowly as possible and extracting herself from the pile she and Oriana have made. It doesn’t take long for her to jump up into Meyer’s arms, and he can’t help but hold her tight to his chest instead of letting her perch on his shoulder. It’s comfort more than restraint. Charlie’s still not looking at him, and Meyer feels a little sick as he turns to the door of the apartment.

 Charlie makes a little noise of frustration behind him, and Oriana’s claws click against the floor as the two of them both stand up. “Hang on, Meyer, we gotta talk,” Charlie says, and Meyer squeezes his eyes shut before turning back around to face him.

 “About the fixed location idea? It’s not set in stone, we don’t have to do it, but I think it’d be a good move to start drawing in a higher clientele,” he says, knowing full well he’s trying to dodge an uncomfortable conversation.

 Charlie shifts, awkwardly, and rubs the back of his neck, still avoiding meeting Meyer’s eyes. “No, that’s… you know what you’re doin’ with the business. I mean the whole—” he gestures weakly between Atarah and Oriana, who’s at his side with her ears flattened against her skull. “—thing,” he finishes awkwardly, finally looking up from the floor to meet Meyer’s gaze for the first time in about five minutes.

 Meyer tenses, holding Atarah closer to his chest and staying rooted to the spot, as much as he wants to get as far away from this topic as possible. “I’d rather not discuss this now.” Atarah pushes back against his chest, apologetic and just as uncomfortable now that everything’s being laid out in front of all of them.

 Charlie winces, but any hope Meyer had of getting out of this with his dignity intact fades away as he says, “me neither, but I don't wanna—” He huffs, frustration clear as day. “We can’t keep doin’ this.”

 Atarah flinches in Meyer’s arms, and that makes everything so much worse, but he squares his shoulders and tries to meet Charlie’s eyes. If they're going to do this, he's going to salvage whatever he hasn't already ruined. “I'm aware that Atarah and I have crossed a line, and we've endeavored to keep that as separate from our business interactions as possible. Obviously we haven't managed it.” He takes a shaky breath, but before he can keep going, Charlie interjects.

 “Wait, you—” Charlie’s brows furrow, and he shakes his head. “What d’you mean, _you_ crossed a line? Orh’s the one all over Atarah,” he says, and next to him Oriana’s head dips a bit between her shoulders. Charlie gives his head another confused little shake. “What are you talkin’ about?”

 Meyer presses his lips together, and chooses his next words as carefully as he can. He's not admitting anything if he doesn't absolutely have to, but... “I think it's clear at this point that I've let certain unprofessional emotions get the better of me recently, but if nothing else I’d like to maintain our mutually beneficial business relationship for as long as—what are you doing?” Meyer breaks off, because Charlie is taking a step forward, the confusion cleared off his face and a far more speculative expression taking its place.

 “What’re you talking about, Meyer?”

 “I—” Meyer stands his ground as Charlie gets closer, stopping close enough that Atarah leaps down from Meyer’s arms, and on his periphery Meyer can see her edging past Charlie’s legs and closer to Oriana, whose entire demeanor’s changed now, and she pads forward to meet Atarah halfway, tail wagging gently. He looks back up at Charlie, and the expression on his face is not at all what Meyer’s expecting. It's nervous, but hopeful, and it makes Meyer’s voice break embarrassingly around the words as he says, “you can't tell?”

 “I got a guess,” Charlie says quietly, and reaches up to cradle Meyer’s jaw in his hands. Meyer can barely breathe as Charlie leans in, so slowly, and then he _stops_ , face inches away from Meyer’s. “Tell me to stop,” he breathes against Meyer’s lips, and Meyer shakes his head, just frustrated enough to be forward.

 “Don't you dare.” He leans up and closes the gap himself, and seeing that infuriating grin of Charlie’s is one thing, but it's completely different feeling it pressed against his lips. His hands land tentatively on Charlie’s waist as Charlie deepens the kiss, palms still against Meyer’s jaw holding him close.

 He doesn't know what to do, with his hands, with the kiss, with anything. Charlie presses closer—somehow—one thigh sliding between Meyer’s, and Meyer gasps as Charlie nips at his lip. Everywhere Charlie touches him, his hands on Meyer’s face, his chest against Meyer’s, his mouth, Meyer feels like he’s on fire. He breaks away, resting his forehead against Charlie’s shoulder and squeezing his eyes shut. Distantly it occurs to him that he has no idea what Atarah and Oriana are getting up to; judging by how content she feels they're fine. He’s not going to look to find out for sure.

 Charlie shifts to press his mouth to the corner of Meyer’s jaw with more than a hint of teeth, and Meyer’s not so far gone that he’s not a little embarrassed by the noise he makes. He tips his head to the side a few degrees anyway despite himself. He feels more than hears Charlie’s satisfied hum before he does it again, sucking at the skin hard enough that Meyer’s sure it’ll leave a mark. Meyer swallows another sound as much as he can, face still pressed to Charlie’s collarbone.

 “What are we doing?” he asks quietly, voice shakier than he wanted it to be, and Charlie goes tense. He doesn’t pull away, though, and Meyer doesn’t know how to talk about this, but they can’t get away with ignoring it. Atarah won’t let it slide until it’s all hashed out, Meyer knows it, and he’d be shocked if Oriana did either. For his part, he’d rather get it out of the way than get hounded by his own daemon over it. It’s not like things can get much more awkward than they already were tonight.

 Charlie’s face is still tucked against his neck, fingertips of one hand brushing through the hair at the nape of Meyer’s neck. “Anything you want, Meyer,” Charlie says, the words pressed against Meyer’s jaw. Meyer shudders, his grip on Charlie’s waist tightening. That’s… not at all what he was expecting as an answer. The appeal of it catches him off guard. He hardly even knows _what_ he wants. All he knows is he doesn't want this to end. To be a one-time thing that they move on from, no problem. Meyer doesn't think he can do that, not the way it always seems like Charlie does so easily.

 Meyer swallows hard, tilting his head to press his lips to Charlie’s throat, and Charlie exhales hard so he must be doing something right. “And if I wanted this all the time?” he responds, a bit hesitantly, bracing for a laugh or to be pushed away or worse. “Not just this once?”

 He can feel the way Charlie’s tension drains away where they’re pressed together, and he cups Meyer’s jaw again to look him in the eye. He grins, slow and crooked and full of enough heat that Meyer feels his face warm up just looking at him. “Fine by me,” Charlie murmurs, and Meyer doesn’t bother resisting the urge to push up on his toes to kiss him again. Every nerve in Meyer’s body lights up as Charlie groans into his mouth, and he bites at Charlie’s lip just to hear him make that noise again. He still doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing, but Charlie doesn’t seem to mind, and presumably Meyer’s got plenty of time to figure it out.

**Author's Note:**

> for reference:  
> meyer's daemon, atarah, is a [beech marten](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beech_marten)  
> charlie's daemon, oriana, is a [black-backed jackal](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black-backed_jackal)
> 
> i live for comments, or come talk to me about baby gangsters in love on [tumblr](http://meyerlansky.tumblr.com)!


End file.
